


Wanting

by angelprototype



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2539007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelprototype/pseuds/angelprototype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cara and Kahlan have always danced around one another. But what happens when the Confessor takes matters into her own hands regarding the Mord'Sith's sudden changes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanting

            The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, the wooden walls vibrating with the constant battering of a strung up pig carcass. Blonde hair whipped about a fierce face as the Mord’Sith continued her relentless assault on both the pig and her hands. Specks of blood decorated the dirt floor of the farm in a macabre pattern, but still the woman continued her beating. Every now and then a grunt would slip past gritted teeth, the only sign of her discomfort. She would not cry out, not stop until the pain stopped. No, that wasn’t right. Mord’Sith did not feel pain. She didn’t know _what_ it was, just that she wanted it to stop.

            She had been at it for hours, first with her agiels. But when even the burning pain of her weapons became numb she threw them across the barn and began using her fists. She started slow; a repetition of jabs and mild swings. Cara watched with a morbid fascination the animal carcass shudder with each hit. She began to add more force, knuckles leaving indentation marks in the softened hide. But it was when she heard the barn door creak open did she finally let loose.

            The pig swung freely now and with each hit another chunk of meat was chipped away. Cara beat at it mercilessly with complete disregard to the blue eyes burning a hole into her back.

            _Good_. She thought. _Let her see this. Let her see the anger, the rage, the pure_ unadulterated _damage I can cause with these hands_.

            Another harsh blow. The chain holding her “bag” began to creak.

_Let her see what a Mord’Sith looks like when we truly let go._

With a raw war cry she twisted her body in a vicious side kick, the hanging pig flying free from the chained hook attached to the rafters. She watched the mass of meat connect with an empty barrel across the farm, shattering the wood into splinters.

            Cara stood upright, fists at her sides and body trembling from the exertion. At least, that’s what she told herself it was from.

            _Damn that woman._

            Kahlan stood, mystified, as the woman she came to call friend devastate the animal carcass. She knew Cara was strong, that the woman was trained as a warrior since she was a child, to protect and serve with her life. But Kahlan knew this was no mere training session. Something was eating at the blonde, had been ever since they began their return home from sealing the rifts. She had been on edge and extra cautious of her surroundings, especially when it came to the Mother Confessor herself.

            At first she thought it was just Cara being Cara. When she ate with the others, she spoke little, if at all. She refused to meet Kahlan’s eyes when they bathed, where before she would converse, if minimally, with the brunette. She had even gone as far as moving her bedroll to the other side of the fire, away from Kahlan, when they slept.

            Cara had slowly but surely shut her out.

            Kahlan was taking a chance cornering the Mord’Sith while she was alone, but she had to know what had changed. What happened to make Cara so distant again?

            “Cara?” With a gentle voice and an even gentler touch Kahlan laid a hand on the blonde’s shoulder to steady her. Cara spun, fist at the ready and a fire in her eyes that the brunette had only seen when they were in the heat of battle. Kahlan gasped as she took in the woman before her.

            Cara’s hand shook, poised to strike, green eyes glistening with unshed tears and wild with an emotion the Confessor couldn’t quite place. Sweat beaded her brow, ran down the sides of her face and neck to collect between the valley of her breasts. The leather gloves protecting her hands were showing tears at the knuckle, fresh blood seeping through and making it difficult to discern what was leather and what was the blonde’s torn flesh.

            “Oh, Cara…” Kahlan slowly trailed the hand that rested on the blonde’s shoulder to the fist that trembled. Cara’s brow twitched in acknowledgement but she did not move. Feral green challenged soothing blue as Kahlan took Cara’s hand into her own, slowly brining the trembling limb down in front of them.

            She had seen Cara slaughter armies, fight the undead and even clash with her own Sisters. She knew that Cara had killed many people, not all of which were deserving of it, and yet seeing the blonde tremble before her with such frailty shook Kahlan’s entire being.

“Why won’t you just talk to me, Cara?” Straight to the point.

            The Mord’Sith stiffened. “You wouldn’t understand.”

            Kahlan scoffed. “Of course I wouldn’t. You refuse talk to me, to any of us. Do you still not trust me after all this time?”

            The blonde winced. “Kahlan...”

            Kahlan sighed and withdrew her hand from Cara’s.

            The blonde was instantly missing the contact.

            “You know what Cara? It’s fine. You’re Mord’Sith, right? Is that why I couldn’t understand? Because it’s only something a battle hardened, emotionally deprived _Mord’Sith_ would get?”

            “I can’t!”

            Kahlan started, taken aback by the blonde’s sudden outburst.

            Cara heaved a heavy sigh and turned her gaze from the Confessor. “I...just can’t.”

            For a while neither woman spoke, Kahlan still in partial shock and Cara too full of pride to apologize. The blonde’s eyes wandered down to her hands clenched tightly into fists. She hadn’t taken much notice that her hands were trembling until Kahlan gently wound a hand under the other woman’s arm and tugged, guiding Cara’s numb body to a nearby stool.

            “Sit,” she murmured softly, steel lacing her voice and leaving no room for argument. “I'll go grab some cloth to wrap these. Stay put, alright?”

            Cara gave a mute nod, plopping unceremoniously onto the stool and stared at her hands. She outstretched her slowly bruising fingers. The trembling shot through to her arms, into her shoulders and spread out until the Mord’Sith was shaking all over.

            What was she doing? This was completely uncharacteristic of the high Mord’Sith Cara Mason! Sitting in a barn, _trembling_ , waiting to be tended to? By the _Mother Confessor?_ She snorted to herself at the thought.

            “They’re going to have to come off.”

            Cara blinked up to find Kahlan kneeling before her, arms cradling a bowl full of medicinal herbs and wrappings. She set the supplies down and sat across from the blonde, nodding to the woman’s hands.

            “Your gloves. You’re going to have to take them off so I can clean your hands.”

            Again Cara blinked at the brunette. Since when did Cara’s wounds become a priority to the Confessor?

            “They’ll be fine.”

            Kahlan, either not hearing the blonde’s words or simply not caring, gingerly took her hand into her own to slip the leather glove off. Cara’s hand throbbed with a burning ache at the simplest of touches and she could not fight the involuntary twitch her fingers gave.

            Kahlan frowned, setting the glove aside. “Does it hurt?”

            “No.” _Yes_.

            The brunette lifted a brow but said nothing, returning to the task of gently applying crushed herbs and oil to Cara’s knuckles. She clucked her tongue. The woman had nearly broken her hand.

_What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?_

            Cara sat in silence, chewing the inside of her cheek whenever the pain overwhelmed her. She scowled. How weak had she become traveling with the Seeker that the mere act of wrapping a wound became too much to bear?

            Kahlan spared a quick glance up to see how her friend was faring. Cara seemed relatively relaxed, her posture slack, but the sheen of sweat forming above her lips said otherwise.

            “There’s nothing left for you to fight, is that why you’re acting like this? No more Banelings to destroy, no armies to maim, no Sisters of the Agiel to try and take you away? Stop fighting this, Cara. Stop fighting _me_.”

           The blonde tensed, viridians shooting up to clash with the other woman. But Kahlan kept her eyes cast down, gently covering Cara’s wounds with a linen cloth, fingers grazing over her beaten knuckles in a silent attempt to calm her.

            Cara closed her eyes, refusing to watch the caring way Kahlan tended to her wounds. The foreign sting of tears burned behind her lids and Cara squeezed them tighter. She could almost hear the taunting lilt of her sisters’ voices, of Dahlia’s voice, in the back of her mind.

_Weak. The Seeker has made you weak! Look at you! On the verge of tears because of one woman showing you the slightest bit of compassion. You’re not a Mord’Sith. You’re pathetic. Lord Rahl was right, you—_

“No.”

            Kahlan looked up, clear blues blinking in confusion at the blonde’s soft words.

            “Cara?”

            Their eyes met and the brunette shook the sudden feeling of dread settling at the base of her spine.

            “Take it all away. These… _shadows_ …of my past,” Cara shook her head in a desperate attempt to shake the memories; the memories of Stowcroft and her sister, of Dahlia’s sweet touches. Of Triana and Rahl and her endless days spent under the blunt end of an agiel.

            “They won’t let me go. I can't do this anymore.” Cara took the startled Confessor's hands into hers and placed them around her unguarded neck. “Take them. Take them from me, Kahlan!”

            For a moment the brunette was stunned into silence, confusion clearly written on her features. But as she knelt there, a broken Cara in her lap, her fingers grasped halfheartedly around the blonde’s neck, Kahlan's eyes widened and she quickly withdrew her hands as if burned.

            “Cara no! You want me to _confess_ you? Have you gone insane?”

            “I can’t…these feelings. I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m feeling. If I’m not in my right mind I can’t protect Richard...” Cara looked up then, eyes glistening and tearing a gasp from the Confessor. “I can’t protect _you_.”

            Looking into Cara's teary eyes Kahlan had once again gotten a glimpse of the woman buried inside the Mord'Sith.

            And that’s when she knew. She knew what was slowly devouring Cara from the inside, what caused the woman’s restless nights and aloof attitude towards the group. The recklessness in battle and timid glances she would cast Kahlan’s way.

            Cara was in love with the Mother Confessor.

            “When?”

            The blonde spared her a glance. “What?”

            “When did you know?” Kahlan gently pried.

            Cara’s jaw tightened.

            _Since I first laid eyes on you_? _Since you first showed me compassion, when I thought my fate was sealed as a Baneling?_ _Since forever ago?_ “Richard’s birthday…in the tomb.”

            “Spirits, Cara…that was how many fortnights ago?”

            Her cheeks reddened and the blonde looked away abashed. Kahlan sighed.

_She’s retreating into herself again. Damn it Cara you stubborn mule._

Kahlan again took the Mord’Sith’s hand into her own.

            “Don't you dare run away from this.” Kahlan demanded, lifting her other hand to cup Cara's chin and tilt it up to gaze at her.

            The smaller woman froze.

“I’m here for you, Cara. Never forget that.” Kahlan gave her a reassuring smile, thumb grazing the blonde’s bottom lip. She knew not to push Cara, that the woman needed to move at her own pace. But _spirits_ did she want to push.

            Cara’s mind blanked at the feel of the Confessor’s fingers on her lips, her cheeks burning with a strong blush. Her mind was racing, heart thumping like a wild drum in her chest.

            Why? Why was her body reacting this way, betraying her? She was confused. Completely and utterly lost in what was happening within herself.

            Kahlan was touching her, comforting her. She was so close. So close she could smell the unique scent of nature and leather and everything that was Kahlan.

            Creator be damned she needed to get away!

            And Kahlan saw it. Saw the steely resolve suddenly snap back into those eyes. The brunette’s eyes shifted between Cara’s fearful ones and the blonde’s quivering lips. Again Kahlan brushed her lips with her thumb, sliding down her jaw to cup the woman’s cheek. Cara’s breath hitched.

            “What…are you doing?” The blonde cursed herself for her hesitation, voice nearly cracking at the end. Still she did not move, eying the Confessor warily. Kahlan smiled softly then, sliding her other hand from Cara’s wrist and up her arm until she had the Mord’Sith’s face cradled in her hands. She spoke softly so as not to spook the woman before her.

            “I don’t know,” she shook her head, “but just let me.”

            Cara’s eyes screwed shut as Kahlan closed the small distance between them, gently capturing the blonde’s lips in a tender kiss.

            At first there was nothing, just the gentle pressure of Kahlan’s lips against hers. But as the seconds went by and Cara’s brain started to once again function properly her eyes snapped open.

            _What is she... Kahlan… Spirits she tastes so sweet…_

            Something inside Cara burned, the fire crackling to a raging inferno. A low growl bubbled in the blonde’s throat and she pushed forward, the kiss becoming more fervent.

            Kahlan gasped, hands instinctively going to the woman’s leather clad hips to steady herself. Her heart was racing, a low whimper slipping past parted lips when Cara’s tongue gently swept across them. The blonde wasted no time in taking control, a firm thigh nuzzling its way between the Confessor’s now trembling legs.

            The brunette bit back a groan and tilted her head back at the sudden, _welcome_ pressure between her legs.

_Creator_ what _is she doing to me._

            Cara took full advantage of the skin presented before her. Lips and teeth and tongue where everywhere at once as Kahlan’s nails fought to find purchase on the smooth leather.

            “Nn...Cara…”

            The blonde’s ears perked, her name falling from the Confessor’s lips almost muted from the sound of her blood pounding in her ears. She pulled back, suddenly hyper aware of what they were doing, of what _she_ was doing. Kahlan whimpered at the sudden loss and gripped at the Mord’Sith’s hips, tugging. Blue eyes darkened with lust blinked open and Cara nearly choked on the knot of arousal in her throat.

            Forcing her libido to calm Cara took a shaky breath.

            “We…I can’t do this.” Cara released the brunette and sat back. There was a slight tremble to her form as she concentrated on controlling her breathing.

            Kahlan blinked and instantly sobered.

            “Cara?”

            She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Richard—“

            “Richard isn’t an issue.”

            The blonde looked up, eyes narrowing in confusion.

            “What?”

            Kahlan blushed, her dress suddenly the most interesting thing in the barn as she toyed with a frayed piece of fabric.

            “He…I…We’re not…together, Cara.”

            Cara blinked owlishly and Kahlan has to stifle the giggle threatening to come out.

            “We spoke about things. About us. He and I are just friends, Cara. We love each other, yes, but I am not _in_ love with him. Not like…”

            A thin, blonde brow was raised, Cara’s heartbeat spiking at the implications behind the Confessor’s words.

            “Not like?”

            “Not like…the way I feel about you.” Kahlan exhaled shakily, the weight of her confession finally leaving her chest feeling light again. “The way I love you.”

            “You…what?” Cara’s ears rung, her blood pounding fiercely to drown out all sound. Had Kahlan just…? Did she truly mean...? And Richard! Where did that leave the Mord’Sith and Seeker? Would he see the women’s budding relationship as a betrayal? He was her Lord! Surely she couldn’t just—

            “Cara?”

            The blonde snapped to attention, eyes frantic with so many thoughts tumbling through her brain. “Huh?”

            This time Kahlan couldn’t control the mirth that bubbled from her chest. She laughed openly at the now scowling Mord’Sith. “Oh Cara, you truly are adorable when you’re confused.”

            Green eyes narrowed in indignation and the blonde crossed her arms. “Hold your tongue, Confessor. Mord’Sith are not…adorable.”

            Kahlan’s lips curved up into a delighted smile.

            “No, Mord’Sith are not. But Cara Mason certainly is.”

            The blonde rolled her eyes. “Hmph.”

            Again Kahlan laughed at the shorter woman’s expense, wrapping her arms around her in a gentle hug and squeezing. Cara tensed.

            “ _What_ do you think you’re doing?”

            “Hugging you.”

            “Yes I see that...” She tried to sound annoyed but Kahlan could just barely make out the slight smirk on pale lips.

            “Get used to it because I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon. I just got you after all.”

            “Creator help me, I’m going to be assimilated by the Mother Confessor.”

            The brunette chuckled. “You love it.”

            Cara hummed in her throat, a full smile finally gracing her features. “Maybe.”


End file.
